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SONGS  FROM  THE  GREAT  POETS, 


SONG  OF  THE  BROOK    ....  Tennyson. 

SONG  OF  THE  BELL  Schiller. 

SONGS  FROM  FAUST  Goethe. 


TO    BE    FOLLOWED  BY 

SONGS  FOR  ALL  SEASONS  .  .  Longfellow. 
SONG  OF  THE  RIVER     ....  Kingsley. 

i  Milton. 

SONGS  OF  THE  ECHOES     .    .    .  '  Ben  Jonson. 

/  Tennyson. 


Concordia  we  the  bell  will  call. 


SCHILLER'S 

SONG   OF  THE  BELL. 

TRANSLATED  BY  W.   H.  FUR  NESS. 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 

By  ALEXANDER  LIEZEN  MAYER  and  EDMUND  H.  GARRETT. 


BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED  BY  ESTES  AND  LAURIAT. 


Copyright,  1882, 
By  Estes  and  Lauriat. 


University  Press  : 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

"  Concordia  we  the  bell  will  call  "  [Frontispiece)                                         .  4 

"  See  ye,  who  join  in  endless  union,  that  heart  with  heart  be  in  communion  "  .    .  10 

"  Come  !  my  lads,  your  strength  is  wanted,  we  must  make  the  bell  to-day  ! "     .    .  11 

"That  the  tough  bell-metal  going  through  the  mould  be  rightly  flowing"    ...  13 

"  High  in  the  belfry  of  the  spire  "   14 

"  Bubbles  white  I  see  appearing  ;  good  !  the  mass  is  melted  now  "   14 

*'  A  mother's  tender  cares  adorning,  with  watchful  love,  his  golden  morning"  .  .  17 
"The  maiden's  plays  the  proud  boy  scorneth,  he  rushes  forth,  the  world  to 

roam "   18 

"  With  pilgrim's  staff,  at  last  returneth,  a  stranger  in  his  father's  home"     ...  19 

"  And  glorious,  in  her  youthful  splendor,  the  maiden  stands  before  his  sight"     .  21 

"  For  when  the  Strong  and  Mild  are  pairing,  the  Manly  with  the  Tender  sharing  "  23 

"  Lovely  round  the  bride's  locks  clinging,  plays  the  virgin  coronal "   25 

"  Be  the  casting  now  beginning ;  finely  jagged  is  the  grain  "  .    .......  27 

"  Pillars  tumble,  windows  creaking,  mothers  fleeing,  children  shrieking ...  29 

"  The  heads  he  counteth  of  his  dearest,  and  lo  !  not  one  dear  head  is  gone  "  .    .  31 

"  To  holy  Earth's  dark,  silent  bosom  the  husbandmen  the  seed  consign  "    •    •    •  33 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

"  Bright  with  flowers,  on  sheafy  towers  garlands  glance,  and  the  younger  of  the 

reapers  seek  the  dance  "   35 

"Gentle  Concord,  Heavenly  Peace,  hover,  hover,  ever  friendly,  o'er  this  place  !  *'  37 

"  When  the  hordes  of  battle  swarming  through  this  silent  vale  are  storming  "     .  39 

"  Rushes  to  arms  the  citizen     41 

"  E'en  the  'scutcheon,  formed  completely,  shows  its  maker  worketh  neatly"   .    .  43 

"Now  with  strength  the  rope  is  lending,  raise  the  Bell  from  out  the  ground"  .    .  45 

Vignette,  —  Cupids  putting  wreath  round  bell    .    .   «  46 


See  ye,  who  join  in  endless  nniofi, 

That  hea?'t  with  heart  be  in  commimion  ! 


In  the  earth,  now  firmly  planted, 

Stands  the  mould  of  well-burnt  clay. 

Come  !  my  lads,  your  strength  is  wanted, 

We  must  make  the  bell  to-day ! 

From  the  heated  brow, 

Sweat  must  freely  flow, 

So  the  work  the  master  showeth ; 

Yet  the  blessing  Heaven  bestoweth. 

The  work  we  earnestly  are  doing 

Befitteth  well  an  earnest  word  ; 

Then  Toil  goes  on,  more  cheerly  flowing, 

When  good  discourse  is  also  heard. 

So  let  us  then  with  care  now  ponder 

What  our  weak  strength  originates  ; 

To  him  no  reverence  can  we  render, 

Who  never  plans  what  he  creates. 

'T  is  this  indeed  that  man  most  graceth, 

For  this  'tis  his  to  understand, 

That  in  his  inner  heart  he  traceth 

What  he  produces  with  his  hand. 


Take  the  wood,  from  pine  trunks  riven, 
Dry  it  must  be  through  and  through, 
That  the  flame,  straight  inward  driven, 
Fiercely  strike  into  the  flue  ! 


Let  the  copper  brew  ! 

Quick  the  tin  in,  too  ! 
That  the  tough  bell-metal  going 
Through  the  mould  be  rightly  flowing. 


What  in  the  pit,  by  help  of  fire, 
The  hand  of  man  is  forming  thus, 
High  in  the  belfry  of  the  spire. 
There  will  it  tell  aloud  of  us. 
Still  will  it  last  while  years  are  rolling, 
And  many  an  ear  by  it  be  stirred, 
With  all  the  mourner's  woes  condoling, 
And  with  Devotion's  choir  accord. 
Whate'er  this  changing  life  is  bringing, 
Here  down  beneath,  to  Earth's  frail  son. 
Strikes  on  the  metal  crown,  which,  ringing 
Will  monitory  sound  it  on. 


Bubbles  white  I  see  appearing  ; 
Good  !  the  mass  is  melted  now. 
Throw  in  salts,  the  fluid  clearing, 
They  will  help  it  quick  to  flow. 
Clean  too  from  the  scum 
Must  the  mixture  come, 


That  in  metal  pure  abounding, 
Pure  and  full  the  bell  be  sounding. 
For,  with  Joy's  festal  music  ringing, 
It  welcomes  the  beloved  child. 
Upon  his  life's  first  walk,  beginning, 


Wrapt  in  the  arms  of  Slumber  mild  ; 
For  him  yet  rest  in  Time's  dark  bosom 
Funereal  wreath  and  joyous  blossom; 
A  mother's  tender  cares  adorning, 
With  watchful  love,  his  golden  morning, 


The  years,  —  they  fly  hke  arrows  fleet. 
The  maiden's  plays  the  proud  boy  scorneth, 
He  rushes  forth,  the  world  to  roam 


With  pilgrim's  staff,  at  last  returneth, 
A  stranger  in  his  father's  home. 


And  glorious,  in  her  youthful  splendor, 

Like  creature  come  from  Heaven's  height, 

With  cheeks  all  mantling,  modest,  tender. 

The  maiden  stands  before  his  sight. 

A  nameless  longing  then  is  waking 

In  the  youth's  heart ;   he  strolls  alone  , 

The  tears  from  out  his  eyes  are  breaking ; 

Joy  in  his  brothers'  sports  is  gone. 

He  blushes  as  her  steps  he  traces. 

Her  greeting  smile  his  heart  elates, 

For  fairest  flowers  the  fields  he  searches, 

Wherewith  his  love  he  decorates. 

O  tender  Longing!  Hope  how  thrilling! 

The  golden  time  of  young  first  Love, 

The  eye  beholds  all  heav'n  unveiling, 

Revels  the  heart  in  bliss  above ! 

Oh  that,  forever  fresh  and  vernal, 

First  love's  sweet  season  were  eternal ! 


See  how  brown  the  pipes  are  getting ! 
This  Uttle  rod,  I  dip  it  in, 
If  it  show  a  glazed  coating, 
Then  the  casting  may  begin. 

Now,  my  lads,  enough  ! 

Prove  me  now  the  stuff. 
The  brittle  with  the  soft  combining, 
See  if  they  be  rightly  joining. 
For  when  the  Strong  and  Mild  are  pairing, 
The  Manly  with  the  Tender  sharing. 
The  chord  will  then  be  good  and  strong. 


See  ye,  who  join  in  endless  union, 

That  heart  with  heart  be  in  communion  ! 


For  Fancy's  brief,  Repentance  long. 

Lovely  round  the  bride's  locks  clinging, 

Flays  the  virgin  coronal, 

When  the  merry  church-bells  ringing 

Summon  to  the  festival. 

Ah  !  the  hour  of  life  most  festal 

Ends  the  May  of  Life  also, 

With  the  veil,  and  girdle  vestal 

Breaks  the  lovely  charm  in  two. 

For  Passion  will  fly. 

But  Love  is  enduring, 

The  flower  must  die, 

Fruit  is  maturing. 

The  man  must  be  out 

In  hostile  life  striving, 

Be  toiling  and  thriving,  and  planting,  obtaining, 
Devising  and  gaining,  and  daring,  enduring. 
So  fortune  securing; 

Then  riches  flow  in,  all  untold  in  their  measure, 
And  filled  is  the  garner  with  costliest  treasure. 
The  store-rooms  increase,  the  house  spreadeth  out, 
And  reigns  there  within 
The  chaste,  gentle  housewife. 
The  mother  of  children. 
And  wise  and  sweetly 
The  house  rules  discreetly ; 


The  maidens  she  traineth, 
The  boys  she  restraineth, 
And  work  never  lingers, 
So  busy  her  fingers, 
Increasing  the  gains 
With  ordering  pains, 

And  sweet-scented  presses  with  wealth  she  is  filling, 
And   thread  round   the   swift-humming  spindle  is 
reeling, 

And  the  neat  burnished  chests,  —  she  gathers  them 
full 

Of  linen  snow-white,  and  of  glistening  wool, 

The  gloss  and  the  shine  to  the  good  she  adds  ever. 

And  resteth  never. 

And  the  father,  with  look  elate, 

From  the  high  far-seeing  gable 

Surveys  his  blooming,  broad  estate, 

Seeth  his  haystacks  forest-like  growing. 

And  the  barns  with  their  lofts  o'erflowing, 

And  the  granaries,  bent  with  the  blessing, 

And  the  corn  as  it  waves  unceasing  ; 

Boasting,  with  pride-lit  face  : 

Firm,  as  the  Earth's  own  base, 

'Gainst  all  misfortune's  strength, 

Standeth  my  house  at  length  ! 

Yet  with  mighty  Fate  supernal, 

Man  can  weave  no  bond  eternal, 

And  misfortune  strideth  fast 


Be  the  casting  now  beginning 
Finely  jagged  is  the  grain. 
But  before  we  set  it  running, 
Let  us  breathe  a  pious  strain ! 

Now  knock  out  the  tap ! 

God  forbid  mishap  ! 


Through  the  bending  cannons  hollow 

Smoking  shoots  the  fire  brown  billow. 

Beneficent  the  might  of  Flame, 

When  man  keeps  watch  and  makes  it  tame. 

In  what  he  fashions,  what  he  makes, 

Help  from  this  Heaven's  force  he  takes. 

But  fearful  is  this  force  of  Heaven, 

When,  having  all  its  fetters  riven. 

It  bursts  forth,  its  own  law  to  be, 

Thy  daughter,  Nature,  wild  and  free  i 

Wo  !  when  once  emancipated, 

With  nought  her  power  to  withstand, 

Through  the  streets  thick  populated. 

High  she  waves  her  monstrous  brand ! 

By  the  elements  is  hated 

What  is  formed  by  mortal  hand. 

From  the  heavens  blessing  gushes, 

The  shower  rushes  ; 

From  the  heavens,  all  alike,  lightnings  strike! 
Hark  !  the  droning  from  the  spire  ! 
That  is  fire  ! 

Red  as  blood  heav'n  is  flushing  ; 

That  is  not  the  daylight's  flood  ! 

What  a  rushing  streets  along  !    Smoke  rolls  on  ! 

The  fire  column,  flickering,  flowing. 

Through  the  long  streets  swiftly  growing, 

With  the  wind  is  onward  going  ; 


As  from  out  a  furnace  flashing, 
Glows  the  air,  and  beams  are  crashing, 
Pillars  tumble,  windows  creaking, 
Mothers  fleeing,  children  shrieking. 


Cattle  moaning,  wounded,  groaning, 

All  is  running,  saving,  flying, 

Light  as  day  the  night  is  shining. 

Through  the  chain  of  hands,  all  vying,  swiftly  flying, 

Goes  the  bucket  ;  bow-like  bending. 

Spouts  the  water,  high  ascending. 

Howling  comes  the  blast,  befriending 

The  flame  it  roaring  seeks  and  fans. 

Crackling  'midst  the  well-dried  grains, 

Seizing  in  the  granary  chambers 

On  the  dry  wood  of  the  timbers, 

And  as  if  it  would,  in  blowing. 

Tear  the  huge  bulk  of  the  world 

With  it,  in  its  flight,  uphurled, 

Mounts  the  flame  to  heaven,  growing 

Giant  tall  !   Hopeless  all, 

Man  to  God  at  last  hath  yielded. 

Idly  sees  what  he  hath  builded. 

Wondering !  to  destruction  going. 

All  burnt  out  are  the  places, 

Where  the  tempest  wild  reposes. 

In  the  vacant  windows  dreary,  Horror's  sitting, 

And  the  clouds  of  heaven,  flitting  high,  look  in. 

Ere  he  goes, 

On  the  ashes. 

Where  his  riches 

Buried  lie,  one  look  man  throws  — 


His  pilgrim's  staff  then  gladly  clutches. 
Whate'er  the  fire  from  him  hath  torn, 
One  solace  sweet  is  ever  nearest, 
The  heads  he  counteth  of  his  dearest, 
And  lo !  not  one  dear  head  is  gone. 


In  the  earth  it  now  reposes, 
Happily  the  mould  is  full  ; 
When  our  work  the  light  discloses, 
Will  it  pay  our  pains  and  skill  ? 

Should  the  casting  crack  ? 

If  the  mould  should  break  ? 
Ah  !  perhaps,  while  we  are  waiting, 
Mischief  is  its  work  completing. 
To  holy  Earth's  dark,  silent  bosom 
We  our  handiwork  resign. 
The  husbandmen  the  seed  consign. 
And  hope  that  it  will  swell  and  blossom 
And  bless  the  sower,  by  laws  divine. 
Still  costlier  seed,  in  sorrow  bringing, 
We  hide  within  the  lap  of  earth, 
And  hope  that,  from  the  cofBn  springing, 
'Twill  bloom  in  brighter  beauty  forth. 
From  the  belfry, 
Deep  and  slow, 
Tolls  the  funeral 
Note  of  woe. 

Sad  and  solemn,  with  its  knell  attending 
Some  new  wanderer,  his  last  journey  wen 

Ah  !  the  wife  it  is,  the  dear  one  ; 
Ah  !  it  is  the  faithful  mother, 
Whom  the  ans^el  dark  is  bearino^ 
From  the  husband's  arms  endearing, 


From  the  group  of  children  far, 

Whom  she  blooming  to  him  bare  ; 

Whom  she  on  her  faithful  breast 

Saw,  with  joy  maternal,  rest. 

Ah  !  the  household  ties  that  bound  her. 

Are  unloosed  forevermore, 

For  pale  shadows  now  surround  her, 

Who,  the  household,  ruled  o'er ! 

For  her  faithful  guidance  ceases, 

No  more  keepeth  watch  her  care. 

In  the  void  and  orphaned  places 

Rules  the  stranger,  loveless  there. 


Till  the  bell  be  cooled  and  hardened, 
Let  there  rest  from  labor  be  ; 
And  be  each  as  free,  unburdened, 
As  the  bird  upon  the  tree. 

Once  the  stars  appear, 

From  all  duty  clear, 
Workmen  hear  the  vespers  ringing  ; 
Still  to  Master  care  is  clinging. 
Joyous  haste  his  bosom  swelling. 
In  the  wild  and  far-off  greenwood, 
Seeks  the  wanderer  his  dear  dwelling. 
Bleating,  wind  the  sheep  slow  homeward 
And  the  kine  too. 

Sleek  and  broad-browed,  slowly  troopings 

Come  in  lowing, 

To  the  stalls  accustomed  goingo 


Heavy  in  rocks  the  wagon,  harvest  laden. 

Bright  with  flowers,  on  sheafy  towers  garlands  glance, 

And  the  younger  of  the  reapers  seek  the  dance. 


Street  and  market-place  grow  stiller ; 

Round  the  light,  domestic,  social. 

Gather  now  the  household  inmates, 

And  the  city  gate  shuts  creaking. 

Black  bedighted  all  the  Earth  is  ; 

Rest  the  people  unaffrighted  by  the  dark, 

Which  alarms  the  bad  benighted  ; 

For  the  eye  of  Law  doth  watch  and  mark. 


Holy  Order,  rich  in  blessing, 
Heaven's  daughter,  lightly  pressing 
Holds  her  law  all  ranks  connected. 
Mighty  States  hath  she  erected, 
Calling  from  the  wilds  the  savage 
There  to  dwell,  —  no  more  to  ravage, 
Into  human  huts  she  goeth, 
And  all  gentle  customs  showeth, 
Weaving  that  dear  tie  around  us, 
Which  to  Fatherland  hath  bound  us. 
Busy  hands,  by  thousands  stirring, 
In  a  cheerful  league  unite. 
And  it  is  in  fiery  motion 
That  all  forces  come  to  light. 
Briskly  work,  by  Freedom  guarded, 
Both  the  master  and  the  men, 
Each  one  in  his  place  rewarded, 
Scorning  every  scoffer  then. 
Labor  is  our  decoration, 
Work  the  blessing  will  command, 
Kings  are  honored  by  their  station, 
Honors  us  the  busy  hand. 


Gentle  Concord,  Heavenly  Peace, 

Hover,  hover,  ever  friendly  o'er  this  place ! 


Never  may  that  day  be  dawning 
When  the  hordes  of  battle  swarminor 
Through  this  silent  vale  are  storming; 
When  the  heavens, 
Which,  with  evening  blushing  mildly, 
Softly  beam, 

Shall  with  flames,  consuming  wildly 
Towns  and  cities,  fearful  gleam  1 


Break  me  up  the  useless  structure, 
It  has  now  fulfilled  its  part, 
That  the  work,  without  a  fracture, 
Joy  may  give  to  eye  and  heart. 
Swing  the  hammer,  swing, 
Till  the  case  shall  spring! 
That  the  bell  to  light  be  given. 
Be  the  mould  in  pieces  riven. 
The  master  wise  alone  is  knowing 
Just  when  the  mould  should  broken  be, 
But  wo  !  when,  streams  of  fire  flowing. 
The  glowing  ore  itself  sets  free ! 
Blind  raging,  with  the  crash  of  thunder, 
It  shivers  the  exploded  house, 
As  if  hell's  jaws  had  yawned  asunder, 
Destruction  far  and  wide  it  throws. 
When  brutal  force  is  senseless  storming. 
There  can  no  perfect  work  be  forming; 
When  nations  seek  themselves  to  free, 
There  can  no  common  welfare  be. 


Wo  I  if  heaped  up,  the  fire-tinder 

The  inmost  heart  of  cities  fill, 

Their  fetters  rending  all  asunder, 

The  people  work  their  own  fierce  will  I 

Then  at  the  bell-ropes  tuggeth  Riot, 

The  bell  howls  forth  a  wailing  sound, 

Sacred  to  peace  alone  and  quiet, 

For  blood  it  rings  the  signal  round. 

"  Equality  and  Freedom,"  howling, 

Rushes  to  arms  the  citizen, 

And  bloody-minded  bands  are  prowling, 

And  streets  and  halls  are  filled  with  men  ; 

Then  women  to  hyenas  turning, 

On  bloody  horrors  feast  and  laugh, 

And  with  the  thirst  of  panthers  burning, 

The  blood  of  hearts  yet  quivering  quaff. 


Nought  sacred  is  there  more,  for  breaking 

Are  all  the  bands  of  pious  Awe, 

The  good  man's  place  the  bad  are  taking, 

And  all  the  vices  mock  at  law. 

'Tis  dangerous  to  rouse  the  lion, 

And  deadly  is  the  tiger's  tooth, 

And  yet  the  terriblest  of  terrors, 

Is  man  himself  devoid  of  ruth. 

Alas  !  when  to  the  ever  blinded 

The  heavenly  torch  of  Light  is  lent ! 

It  guides  him  not,  it  can  but  kindle 

Whole  States  in  flames  and  ashes  blent. 


Joy  to  me  now  God  hath  given  ! 
Look  ye !  like  a  golden  star, 
From  the  shell,  all  bright  and  even, 
Comes  the  metal-kernel  clear. 


Bright  from  top  to  rim. 

Like  the  sun*s  own  beam. 
E'en  the  'scutcheon,  formed  completely. 
Shows  its  maker  worketh  neatly. 


Come  all !  come  all ! 

My  comrades,  stand  around  and  listen 

While  solemnly  our  work  we  christen  ! 

Co^xoRDIA  we  the  bell  will  call. 

To  concord  and  to  heartfelt  adoration 

Assembling  here  the  loving  congregation. 

And  this  its  office  be  henceforth, 

Whereto  the  master  gave  it  birth  : 

High,  this  low  earthly  being  over, 

Shall  it,  in  heaven's  cerulean  tent. 

The  neighbor  of  the  thunder,  hover, 

And  border  on  the  firmament. 

And  let  it  be  a  voice  from  Heaven, 

Joined  with  the  starry  host  afar. 

By  which  high  praise  to  God  is  given. 

And  which  lead  on  the  crowned  year. 

Its  metal  mouth  alone  devoted 

To  sacred  and  eternal  things, 

And  hourly,  Time,  still  onward  flying, 

Shall  touch  it  with  his  rapid  wings. 

To  Destiny  a  tongue  affording, 

Heartless  itself,  befall  what  may. 

It  feels  for  none,  yet  shall  its  swinging 

Attend  upon  life's  changeful  play. 

And  as  away  its  music  fadeth. 

That  strikes  so  grandly  on  the  ear. 

So  may  it  teach  that  nought  abideth, 

That  all  things  earthly  disappear 


Now  with  strength  the  rope  is  lending, 

Raise  the  Bell  from  out  the  ground, 

In  the  atmosphere  ascending, 

Let  it  seek  the  realms  of  Sound ! 

Heave  it,  heave  it,  raise  ! 

Now  it  moves,  it  sways  ! 

Joy  to  us  may  it  betoken, 

Peace,  the  first  sound  by  it  spoken. 


